


Indulgence

by Make_It_Worse



Series: Brat Tamer [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Bottom Connor, Bratting, Chair Sex, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Is a Brat, Dirty Talk, Dom Hank Anderson, Dom/sub, Edging, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay, Pet Names, Playful brat hours, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing Clothes, Showers, Soft bottom taking care of his top hours, Soft boys being soft, Sort Of, Teasing, Top Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make_It_Worse/pseuds/Make_It_Worse
Summary: This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags.Part 10.__It's winter break and Connor is feeling frisky; Anderson just wants to catch up on his reading.





	Indulgence

The weeks between the fall and spring semesters always pass lazily for Anderson. In truth, it’s the only time he feels completely at ease. Jeffrey never bothers him since he’s too busy with family obligations and holiday get-togethers.

He’s never spent one with Connor before and the experience is proving to be an exercise in restraint. Connor likes to shuffle around barelegged in Anderson’s oversized sweaters with Anderson’s too-big loafers on his feet.

Anderson snaps at him one day to put on some pants as he tries to read the legal section of the newspaper. To his immense irritation, Connor gives him a soft smile before straddling his lap, lowering the paper with his fingertips.

He kisses the tip of Anderson’s nose before saying sweetly, “No.” Then he extricates himself before Anderson can swat him with the rolled-up news.

Anderson knows what Connor is up to and he’s having none of it. Not that he minds the idea of taking Connor in every room and on every piece of furniture he owns, but this is his only leisure time. It’s the only time he has to catch up on reading and on—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hank throws down his paper and stomps out of the room when Connor hinges at the waist to select a book from the bottom-most shelf. He doesn’t need to look at the brat to know he’s grinning.

He retreats to the garage-turned-gym to burn off some steam and distract himself. Connor prefers running to lifting weights and doesn’t follow. It doesn’t stop him from throwing a sulking expression in Anderson’s direction when he comes back in.

Anderson smirks when Connor’s pout goes a little slack, his eyes roving over the large man’s form. He’s softer in the middle than he used to be—Connor had a habit of sneaking donuts into Anderson’s lunch if he was around.

Still, his arms and thighs were heavily muscled. He hadn’t let himself go to seed following his career-ending injury at the DPD. If Connor’s expression is anything to go by, he likes what he sees.

Anderson is wholly unsurprised when Connor follows him into the shower. If the handsy little shit wants to play grab-ass, he can work out the knot in Anderson’s shoulder while he’s at it.

“You stink,” Connor says more amused than repelled.

Anderson arches an eyebrow at him, “Why don’t you do something about it, then?”

Connor doesn’t need to be told twice. Stripping down twice as fast as Anderson, he shifts his weight from foot to foot in impatience. Anderson loves to take him time when Connor is antsy. A needy Connor was usually an attentive Connor as well.

As expected, Connor sets to sudsing up Anderson’s body with more focus and vigor than most of their students invested in their entire education. He lets out a small huff of laughter as he traces over faded half-moon scratches.

Anderson throws him a look over his shoulder and Connor bobs his head, “Sorry, sorry. Just admiring my handiwork.” Anderson shakes his head, mildly amused. While he often marked Connor’s body with his mouth, Connor returned the gesture with his nails. Below the collar, their bodies tell the story of what goes on in their bed.

Regardless, Anderson doesn’t care for when Connor purposefully pushes him. He had grand plans for his leisure time and Connor was doing his absolute best to sabotage all of them.

Covering Connor’s hands with his own, he murmurs, “You need to get yourself under control.”

Throwing Anderson’s own words back at him, Connor takes a gamble, “Why don’t you do something about it?” Whatever Connor was hoping for, it wasn’t for Anderson to throw him over his shoulder, soap and all.

He dumps Connor in an unceremonious heap on the mattress, both of them dripping water onto the bedding. Connor starts to tremble immediately, a mixture of being cold and aroused.

Anderson motions for him to lie down and Connor complies eagerly, arms stretched wide and waiting for restraints he knows are behind the bed. He surprised when Anderson secures his ankles as well. Tossing a warm blanket over Connor, Anderson stomps back to the shower.

He can hear Connor calling for him in increasing irritation, and the gap between his teeth is on full display as he smiles widely. Rinsing his hair, he moves on to trim his beard, ignoring Connor until his demanding tone shifts to something apologetic.

He stands in the doorway with a towel around his hips, staring down at his now much more contrite lover, “Are you quite done now, Connor?”

The fight isn’t entirely gone. He has enough left in him to glare at Anderson and stick out his tongue. Anderson answers it with a swat of a pillow to Connor’s head.

“Alright! Alright!” Connor calls through a laugh. The minute Anderson lets him up he’s in the man’s lap, kissing at his neck. His hair is still damp and the blanket slips around his shoulders.

“My god, Connor. Seriou—”

“I want you,” Connor says in a husky tone between kisses. “What’s so wrong with that?” Faced with that logic, most of the reproach drains from Anderson’s posture.

“Spoiled,” Anderson says quietly, threading his fingers in Connor’s hair and forcing him to meet his gaze.

Connor’s pupils threaten to overtake his irises as he whispers the words, “Indulge me.”

The last vestiges of Anderson’s resistance to Connor’s persistence splinter under the intensity of Connor’s gaze. Their mouths collide and Anderson rises, lifting Connor with him as he goes.

Pent up for days, Connor’s first orgasm hits him fast and hard as Anderson’s hands work him over inside and out. He groans in release and anticipation, fully aware that Anderson has a lot more stamina left in the pulsing length of his cock.

Arching one wry eyebrow his expression speaks volumes: Connor’s going to finish what he started. Holding Connor close, he lets the slight man nuzzle against his chest and recollect before he resumes wrecking him.

Anderson whispers every filthy thing he could do to Connor, every way he could take him. He’s halfway through describing how intoxicating Connor looks impaled on his dick when Connor’s own cock swells in answer.

Anderson strokes Connor lightly, working him back into full hardness at his leisure. Connor yelps in surprise when Anderson hoists him once more, tossing him around as if were a ragdoll rather than a full-grown man.

Depositing him on the floor, rough hands bend him sharply over the couch. The curtains are still drawn, but it’s the middle of the day. Connor can see the outline of their neighbor shoveling his driveway. He buries his face in his folded arms in an attempt to muffle his wanton moaning.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Anderson smiles at the action and strokes the fingertips of his free hand down Connor’s spine. “Everyone in our neighborhood knows you’re mine. No need to be shy.”

Connor flushes hideously at the thought. He knows he’s loud. He also knows Anderson’s house is sturdy and well insulated. He doubts anyone could actually hear him unless they stood right outside the front door.

Still, the idea of it arouses him to a humiliating degree. He _wants_ people to know. He enjoys when Anderson puts on possessive displays. He knows he can let the heat of Anderson’s desire devour him without burning him.

He knows he’s safe. He knows Anderson loves him. He’s also pretty sure he’s going to be walking funny by the time Anderson is through with him.

Anderson’s hand resumes working Connor open, dragging his fingers over Connor’s prostate until the man is a shuddering, whimpering mess.

“You’re d-doing this on…purpose,” Connor gasps out when Anderson swats away his attempts to touch himself. He’s almost certain the man is smiling even if he can’t see him and he cries out at the gentle press of teeth against his shoulder.

Anderson kisses the marks before murmuring into Connor’s ear, “Keeping you on edge to the point of desperation is one of my favorite things.” Connor whines, but Anderson’s maddening stroking never falters.

Nudging his nose along the shell of Connor’s ear, his whispered words are hot and thick, “Indulge me.” Connor groans, wondering how long it would take him to learn that Anderson employs turnabout on a regular basis.

By the time Anderson lets Connor up from the couch, he’s fairly certain Connor has enough pent up lust to tackle him to the ground to take what he wants. He doesn’t deny him.

They end up in the recliner with Anderson’s fingers gripping Connor’s hips like he means to brand his prints there permanently. Connor’s hands grip Anderson’s shoulders and his nails dig new grooves into the muscled flesh.

The lewd, filthy slapping of skin meeting skin fills the air, mixing with Connor’s shrieks. They increase in volume and intensity as he bucks back against every thrust Anderson gives him. Thick fingers wrap around his weeping erection and he knows Anderson must be close.

Overwhelmed, Connor presses his face into the crook of Anderson’s neck, “Hank.” It comes out quiet, but he knows Anderson heard him by how his hips stutter. “Please, I need…”

Connor isn’t sure what he wants, but desperate desire claws at his chest as Anderson’s cock continues pummeling him. He unravels at Anderson’s answer, “Anything. For you.”

Connor loses track of time as his release warps through his veins, his vision a dazzling display of stars. He’s dimly aware of Anderson’s harsh breathing, of his hips slowing. They sit there panting in the aftermath until Connor chuckles quietly, “We need another shower.”

They bathe each other afterward—a new ritual they’d picked up. They were both better for it. In the privacy of their shower, Anderson could be gentle and Connor could absorb his unfettered affection. Anderson was more receptive to Connor’s attention as well, allowing small amounts of care.

Anderson didn’t like to be fussed over; Connor knows that. He also knows what the man wants and what he needs aren’t the same things. So he rubs at sore muscles and addresses any scratches he may have left behind.

The first time he’d attempted it, Anderson had huffed out in blunt amusement, “I don’t require aftercare.” Connor had flushed scarlet, still not used to casual conversations about the more subversive nature of their sex life.

“_I_ need it,” Connor had pushed back.

“I know,” Anderson had replied, delicately. “Is there something more you need?”

Connor shook his head, hard. He hadn’t meant to imply—, “You do more than enough. I meant…I need to do this. For you.” In the end, Anderson had acquiesced. It cost him nothing and he enjoyed the burst of fondness he felt when Connor fretted over injuries, no matter how small.

It still disturbed him from time to time how attached he’d become to Connor. He’d never have let a partner follow him to the shower in the past. He’d never let someone worry over him no matter how well-intentioned.

It would have felt weak. Soft. It wasn’t a perception he could allow. Anderson was used to building trust and reworking rules and adjusting limits when necessary. He knew how important it was to tend to his partners afterward. It wasn’t a courtesy he extended to himself.

Before Connor, he always maintained his guard. With Connor, he knows he can let him behind his carefully constructed walls. It took Connor longer to figure these things out and even more time to locate the door. Now that he’s finally inside, he has no intentions of leaving.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WorseMake)


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